


Turn up the Bright Lights

by elless



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elless/pseuds/elless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emotionally and physically hurt after an accident that killed his best friend, Jensen is confined to his house. He finds unexpected solace in Jared, the man delivering his groceries. But Jensen may be too scarred by what happened to ever let things progress with Jared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn up the Bright Lights

Jensen sighs at the knock on his door, tempted to call out a quick “come in!” but he’s not sure who it is and one thing he learned long ago is to always be on guard. Grabbing his crutches, he scoots to the edge of the couch, then pushes upright, only swaying slightly. That couch is hard enough to get out of on a good day, the cushions thick and likely to suck you into their fluffy comfort, but it’s even harder with a leg in a cast.  
  
“Just a minute!” Jensen yells when his visitor knocks again. He’s not expecting anyone, but that doesn’t mean his mom or Morgan or Emily won’t just drop by to check on him.  
  
He slowly makes his way to the door. Physical therapy taught him how to get around on his crutches pretty well, but he’s feeling especially sore today after a particularly brutal PT session yesterday. His armpits ache from the crutches, his still-healing scrapes itch, and his good leg hurts from overcompensating for the broken one. He’s feeling a little grumpy today, so whoever keeps knocking on his door is about to get the rough side of his tongue.  
  
Leaning against the wall for balance, Jensen stops with his hand on the doorknob. “Who is it?” It comes out more snappish than he intended, but if his mom has yet another flimsy excuse to fuss over him, he might just scream.  
  
“Delivery?” a deep, hesitant voice answers. “Uh, from Highland Market?” he continues when Jensen fails to say something.  
  
Right. Jensen forgot about that. It amazes him what you can get delivered nowadays. He’s more than grateful for the groceries, since he’s been pretty much confined to his house for weeks.  
  
“Hang on a sec,” Jensen calls through the door, then turns the handle and uses a crutch to push the door open. He awkwardly backs out of the way, nearly slipping when he sets the crutch down at a weird angle.  
  
There’s a kid on his porch, laden down with green cloth grocery bags. Okay, maybe not a kid, but at least a couple years younger than Jensen. He has a tendency to call everyone a kid because of work, but that’s also the reason he’s able to quickly assess the man standing in front of him. About 6’5”, 220 pounds, between 24 and 26, shaggy dark hair that hasn’t been cut in a long time and curls up where the edges hit the collar of his green windbreaker, hazel eyes that take in all Jensen’s details just like Jensen’s doing to the kid.  
  
Jensen flushes and tries to stand up straighter, though that’s difficult to do while hunched over a pair of crutches. He knows what he looks like—white plaster cast covering his left leg from mid-thigh down to his foot, only leaving his toes free; cuts and scrapes and bruises spread over his face and chest and arms—and he braces for the inevitable question, dreading giving the answer.  
  
But the kid only hefts one handful of bags, the flex of his bicep visible even through his jacket, and says, “I’ll just take these to the kitchen.”  
  
“Right. Yeah. I’ll show you the way,” Jensen replies, already pivoting on his crutches before the kid insists he can find it on his own. Which is true enough, since the kitchen is connected to the living room by a wide archway. “That’s okay,” Jensen dismisses the kid’s protests and swings towards the kitchen anyway, the kid following closely.  
  
“Uh, so what happened?” he asks, and there’s the question Jensen hates.  
  
“Car accident,” Jensen says shortly, and suddenly he’s back in that car with Shane, the smell of blood thick in his nose, Shane’s scream echoing in his head. He shakes his head, snapping himself out of it and rolling his shoulders back, like that’ll banish the memories.  
  
“Wow. That sucks.” He carefully dumps the bags on the kitchen’s center island.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
The kid must recognize his hard tone, because he changes the subject. “Do you have a pantry or something?”  
  
“Yeah, to the left of the fridge.” Jensen gives an aborted gesture, hand mostly caught around his crutch, so he’s not sure if the kid sees it. “That’s okay. You don’t have to. If you just want to leave everything there, I can get it.”  
  
“No worries. It’s part of the service.”  
  
Jensen doubts that, but the kid smiles so bright and genuinely that he lets it go. He’s had to get used to taking help from people. “Just put stuff anywhere there’s room. I’m not picky.”  
  
When he opens Jensen’s pantry, the kids exclaims wondrously, staring at all the fancy pull-out drawers, lazy Susans, and cubbies.  
  
“If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do?” he asks hesitantly.  
  
“I’m a cop.” Was a cop? He’s not sure anymore.  
  
“A dirty cop?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly wondering how a cop affords such a nice, huge house like Jensen’s.  
  
Jensen grins. It feels like the first time since he woke up in the hospital to his mom’s tear-streaked face. “No, I swear! My grand-daddy was an honest-to-god Texas oil tycoon. He left me some money when he passed away a few years ago.”  
  
“That makes me feel better. Not that your grandfather passed away,” he explains hastily. “Just that you’re not on the take.”  
  
The kid’s flustered, and Jensen bites his lip to keep from laughing at the almost adorable look on his face. “Definitely not on the take.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
The kid turns away to start putting the groceries away, which he does neatly and efficiently. Jensen props his crutches against the cupboard and leans on the island, chin on his hand while he watches the kid move gracefully around his kitchen. Jensen can’t help noticing that he’s kinda good looking. Okay, understatement. He’s gorgeous, tall and muscular, with a face that’s somehow manly and pretty at the same time. It doesn’t go past an idle aesthetic assessment, though. He hasn’t felt true attraction in a long time.  
  
When everything’s put away, the kid pulls a form out of his back pants pocket. “If you’ll sign that, Mr. Ackles, I’ll be out of your way.”  
  
“Jensen.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Please call me Jensen. Mr. Ackles makes me feel old.”  
  
The kid smiles, wide and bright. “All right. Jensen. I still need you to sign this.”  
  
Jensen takes the form and pen he slides across the counter to him, signing his name by the highlighted line on the bottom of the page. The kid gathers up the now-empty grocery bags, and they go back into the living room. The kid pauses at the front door and waves, smiling brightly again. He’s about to shut the door when Jensen stops him.  
  
“Hey, wait. I didn’t get your name.” He’s not sure why it matters, but there’s an itch under his skin, a need to put a name to that beautiful face and stop calling him kid.  
  
“Oh. It’s Jared. Have a great day, Jensen.”  
  
Jensen watches him shut the door, then hobbles back over to the couch. Sinking gratefully into the cushions, he props his leg up on the pillow on the coffee table. It’s been awhile since he was on his feet, well, foot, for so long except his PT sessions, and his legs are starting to ache. Sitting down again helps. He grabs the remote, turning the TV on.  
  
A small smile lingers in the corners of his mouth for the rest of the day.  
  
:::  
  
A couple days later, Jensen’s in the same position—TV on, casted leg up on the coffee table—when his door opens and his friends, Morgan and Emily, walk in. A door, even a locked one, isn’t a deterrent to Morgan, so Jensen’s not too surprised.  
  
“We brought food and drink,” Morgan tells him, indicating the 12-packs of pop and bags of chips in his hands.  
  
“My hero,” Jensen replies dryly.  
  
Morgan grins, revealing the slight gap in his top front teeth, and heads toward the kitchen.  
  
Jensen lifts an arm to wrap around Emily when she curls up against his non-injured side.  
  
“Hi, baby,” she says, kissing his cheek. “How are you today?”  
  
“I’m fine.” Jensen suppresses a sigh. He knows she means well, but he’s tired of people asking him that. He’s as okay as you’d expect after what happened.  
  
“Dude! Your fridge is full!” Morgan yells from the kitchen, disbelief and wonder in his voice.  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes. “It’s called food, man. I’m sure you’ve seen it before.”  
  
“Fuck you, dude. Where’d it come from? I thought you were still stuck in the house?”  
  
“I am.” It was mostly by choice and partly based on his doctor’s suggestion. “I ordered stuff from one of those home delivery places. Guy came the other day and packed it all away for me.”  
  
“ _What_ ?”  
  
The anger in Morgan’s voice startles Jensen. “What?” Jensen says, confused. He cranes his head over the back of the couch to look at Morgan standing in the doorway. His face is a storm of ugly emotions Jensen isn’t used to seeing on his friend’s face.  
  
“So you won’t even take my hand to help you off the couch, but you’ll let a fucking stranger put your groceries away?”  
  
“It’s part of his job, Morgan.”  
  
“Whatever,” Morgan huffs. He throws his hands up and stalks back into the kitchen.  
  
“What the hell is your problem?” Jensen shouts after him. After 12 years, he’s used to Morgan’s moods, but this is something new. Morgan normally isn’t the type to lose his temper.  
  
Morgan stomps back, hands on his hips and glare drawing his eyebrows together. “I wish you’d let me help you!”  
  
“You do!” He has no idea how he would’ve survived these last few weeks without Morgan and Emily. They’d known each other since their first day of college, back when Jensen and Morgan were roommates and before Morgan and Emily started to officially date. There’s no one he’s closer to, especially now that…  
  
Jensen swallows and glances away, avoiding both Morgan’s fiery glare and Emily’s concerned eyes.  
  
“Whatever,” Morgan repeats and retreats once more.  
  
“He worries about you,” Emily murmurs, and Jensen nods woodenly.  
  
“I know that, but I’m fine.” Morgan can’t help with what’s wrong anyway.  
  
A few minutes later, Morgan’s back in the doorway, visibly calmer.  
  
“You want something to drink?” he asks mildly.  
  
Jensen takes it as the peace offering intended. “Yeah, I’ll take a root beer. Thanks.”  
  
“Me too, honey!” Emily adds.  
  
Morgan returns with three cans cradled in his palms and a bag of chips clutched in his mouth. Emily jumps up to help, and Jensen grits his teeth. He misses moving around so easily and not needing people to wait on him. It’s just one of many changes he’s struggled to get used to since the accident.  
  
“What are we watching today?” Emily asks from over by Jensen’s DVD shelves.  
  
“Don’t know. Whatever you guys want,” Jensen answers.  
  
Morgan drops down into the armchair by the couch and rips open a bag of chips. “Not one of Jensen’s chick flicks,” he stresses, shuddering dramatically.  
  
“Asshole,” Jensen mutters, tossing a throw pillow at Morgan’s head. Morgan grins at him, and things feel like they’re back to normal.  
  
They settle on Pulp Fiction, even though they’ve all seen it dozens of times by now. Emily pops the disk into the DVD player, then once again snuggles against Jensen’s side, resting her head on Jensen’s chest. Jensen bends carefully so as not to dislodge her and steals the chips from Morgan. It’s comfortable, having the two of them here. He tries not to think too much about who’s missing.  
  
As the end credits on the movie scroll up the screen, Jensen pulls away from Emily and reaches for his crutches on the floor. Morgan sits up from his sprawl, suddenly tense.  
  
“Relax. Just going to the bathroom.” Jensen very narrowly avoids snapping. “I don’t need you to hold my dick while I piss, Morgan.”  
  
“It’s just—”  
  
“What?” Jensen asks, exasperation creeping in now.  
  
“This might be my only chance to touch your dick.”  
  
Morgan looks mournful for a moment before a smirk ruins it. Jensen barks a surprised laugh.  
  
“You had plenty of opportunity when we were roommates. Not my fault you preferred Em’s tits.”  
  
“Still do.” Morgan grins before looking at Emily fondly.       
  
“You better,” Emily insists, moving over to sit on Morgan’s lap.  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes and leaves them to kiss while he makes his way to the bathroom.  
  
:::  
  
Jared comes back the following week. Jensen forgot how nice it is to have things like fresh bread and milk around, since he’s mostly been living on microwavable meals and the frozen casseroles his mom forced on him.  
  
Jared smiles just as much today, and Jensen finds himself relaxing around him. He leans against the island again and watches Jared put stuff away, noticing tan fur all over the back of Jared’s black pants.  
  
“Do you have a dog or something?” he asks.  
  
Jared glances at him over his shoulder. “Yeah. How did you know?”  
  
“You have fur all over your pants.” Mostly on the back, and Jensen totally didn’t see it because he was staring at Jared’s admittedly nice ass.  
  
Flushing, Jared futilely attempts to brush the fur off. “I have two dogs, Harley and Sadie. As you can tell, they shed a lot.”  
  
Jensen smiles as Jared gives up on cleaning his pants and goes back to putting groceries away. “What kind of dogs are they?”  
  
“Harley’s a mastiff mix and Sadie’s part dingo. I got them from the pound a few years ago.”  
  
Big dogs then. Jensen somehow can’t picture Jared owning one of those purse dogs, like a teacup poodle or something. He’d run the risk of accidentally crushing it with his huge hands.  
  
“Rescue dogs. That’s awesome,” Jensen says, tearing his eyes away from Jared’s hands, wrapped securely around a bottle of mustard.  
  
“You have a cat, right?” Jared gestures toward the cans of cat food in the pantry.  
  
“Oh, yeah. Hunter. He’s with my sister right now on account of all this.” He waves vaguely at his cast and crutches. Jensen thinks it would’ve been okay, but his mom and Morgan had worried about Hunter getting underfoot and tripping him, so Mackenzie offered to cat-sit until he gets the cast off. Which won’t be for a long time yet. “He’s a good cat,” he adds, then has to swallow back unexpected tears. He misses having Hunter around, yes, but it’s mostly because of how he came to have Hunter.  
  
He and Shane found an abandoned litter outside Shane’s apartment building three years ago. There were five tiny kittens, all huddled together and shivering. One all-black kitten popped its head up from the pile and looked right at Jensen, and he instantly fell in love. They gathered the kittens, placing them into a towel-lined box, and took them to the vet. All the kittens were small and obviously starving. Jensen could easily feel each one of their fragile ribs. Luckily, they were mostly healthy other than that, though Jensen hated to think what would’ve happened to them if he and Shane hadn’t found them. As soon as he was strong and old enough, Jensen brought Hunter home. Shane always made fun of him, used to tease that Jensen was dating his cat instead of all the potential guys out there, but Jensen didn’t care. He loves that cat.  
  
“Do you still get to see him very often?”  
  
Jensen shakes himself out of the memory and glances up at Jared. It takes a few seconds to make sense of Jared’s question, too caught up in the echo of Shane’s voice and lopsided smile.  
  
“Uh, yeah,” he answers eventually. “Mackenzie—my sister—brings him by sometimes. It’s kinda strange. Feels like I have visitation rights with my own cat, like I lost him in a custody battle,” he jokes, and Jared laughs quietly. It lights up something inside Jensen that he hasn’t felt in what seems like forever. Jensen shifts uncomfortably, deciding to blame it on his hip hurting from PT yesterday. It’s safer that way.  
  
“Just as long as she doesn’t try to keep him, right?”   
  
“Right.” Jensen smiles when Jared turns around to face him. The groceries are all put away, neat and organized just like last time. Jensen appreciates Jared’s efforts to follow the system Jensen already has in place.  
  
“Well, if we’re gonna talk about them like they’re our kids, do you wanna see a picture of my babies?”  
  
Jensen snorts, then nods. Reaching back, Jared pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket and flips it open. Jensen sees a couple of what look like family pictures before Jared shows him a particular photo. Jared’s kneeling between two dogs, a bright, beaming smile stretching across his face. One dog, Jensen guesses it’s the mastiff based on the size, strains against Jared’s arm, seemingly ready to bound away as soon as Jared lets go. The smaller one gazes up at Jared in pure puppy adoration, a paw resting on Jared’s thigh. It’s sweet and makes Jensen miss Hunter even more.  
  
“They’re cute. And huge. I imagined they would be when you mentioned a mastiff mix but wow.”  
  
Jared grins, big and blinding like in the picture. “I know, right? And he’s such a klutz. I don’t think he realizes how big he is, so he’s always running into things or trying to squeeze through areas too small for him to fit in. About two minutes after that picture was taken, he got away from me and tried to climb under the car to go after his ball that rolled under there.”  
  
Jensen snorted again. “Not so smart, huh?”  
  
“No,” Jared agreed happily. “Sadie’s my sweetheart, though. She’s just the opposite. Too smart for her own good. And for me, too. They make quite a pair. Keeps it interesting, I guess.”  
  
“You gotta laugh at them, don’t you? Hunter always does things that get me going. I know it sounds kinda dumb to say this about a cat, but he’s such a dork.”  
  
Jared chuckles, nodding in agreement as he slips his wallet back into his pocket. “No, I absolutely understand. Harley’s a big dork, too.”  
  
“I’d show you a picture, except everything’s on my computer and it’s upstairs.” Jensen ignores the blush heating his cheeks, and rubs the back of his neck. He’s been thinking about getting a laptop for awhile now, even before the accident, but it’s starting to seem like a really good idea lately. Not that he spent much time on the computer before. It’d just be nice to keep in better contact via email with his brother and friends from the force.  
  
“No, that’s okay. Don’t, uh, trouble yourself. I’m sure stairs are—” He trails off uncertainly, and Jensen’s blush intensifies.  
  
He clears his throat and nods awkwardly. “I’ll take a picture with my phone next time Mackenzie brings him by. You can see it next week?”  
  
Jared’s face clears into a smile. “I’d like that. I work every Tuesday, so I’ll be here whenever you need something.”  
  
“Great.”  
  
“Speaking of work. I should head out. I still have a few more deliveries.”  
  
“Right. Of course.” Jensen tamps down on his disappointment, hoping Jared doesn’t notice.  
  
“Just sign this form, and I’ll let you get back to your day.”  
  
Jensen barely resists the urge to laugh bitterly. His day consists of sitting on the couch and watching TV. The inertia of it all gets to him more than anything else. Well, almost anything else.  
  
He signs the form and trails after Jared to the front door. Jared smiles and waves, his step light and easy as he walks to the Highland Market truck parked in Jensen’s driveway.  
  
Once Jared backs the truck out of the driveway and disappears down the street, Jensen digs his phone out of his pocket and calls his sister.  
  
:::  
  
As soon as Mackenzie sets the carrier down and opens the door, Hunter is out like a shot, immediately darting for the couch and tumbling into Jensen’s lap. Jensen laughs and picks Hunter up, holding him against his chest. He buries his face in Hunter’s soft fur and blinks back tears. He missed him more than he realized.  
  
“Hey there, fluffy cat.” Jensen hears Mackenzie snort at the nickname. He ignores her, combing his hands through Hunter’s fur instead.  
Hunter purrs loudly and burrows into Jensen, rubbing his head against Jensen’s chin and neck. Jensen pets and scratches him, especially the spot behind his left ear that Hunter loves. Jensen likes dogs, but he’s always been more of a cat person.  
  
Hunter eventually gets bored and races off to explore the house, to check and see if anything’s different. He’s almost like a guard cat, Jensen muses with a smile.  
  
“I set up his food and stuff,” Mackenzie mentions, sitting in the armchair with her knees curled under her.  
  
“Thanks. For everything.”  
  
She waves a hand in dismissal. “No problem. It’s not like he’s hard to take care of or anything. It’s kinda nice having someone to come home to.”  
  
“Things end with Paul?”  
  
“Pat,” she corrects him. “And yes. Don’t pretend you’re sad for me. I know you hated him.”  
  
“He just wasn’t good enough for my baby sister.”  
  
“You say that about everyone.”  
  
“Because it’s true of all of them.”  
  
“Okay, yes, I get it. You’re the older, protective brother that doesn’t want me to date. Can we move on? Hopefully to dinner?”  
  
Jensen grins, allowing her to change the subject. “Did you bring anything, or is it take out again?” He feels guilty that he can’t cook her a proper meal. He owes her a lot, and not just for looking after Hunter for him. He can’t stand for very long, however, and it’s difficult to move around a kitchen and cook while on crutches.  
  
“Did you eat all Mom’s casseroles already?”  
  
She smirks and Jensen snorts, rolling his eyes. He loves his mom, honestly, but she believes everything gets better through food and for the first couple weeks after he was released from the hospital, he didn’t have much of an appetite.  
  
“I think there’s still some tuna surprise in the freezer if you really want it.”  
  
“No, thank you. I haven’t had it since I moved out, and I don’t plan to ruin that record tonight.” She stands up and stretches, scratching idly at her arm. “I can call for Chinese or see what you have in the kitchen that’ll make up quickly.”  
  
“Chinese is good.”  
  
“Want something to drink while I’m up?”  
  
“Sweet tea? Thanks, Mac.”  
  
“No problem,” she says easily, ruffling his hair as she goes by.  
  
Later, with takeout boxes of Chinese covering the coffee table, Mackenzie sets down her drink and sits sideways on the couch. She leans her head against the back cushion and studies him closely. Jensen nearly chokes on his mouthful of lo mein.  
  
“What? Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”  
  
“You seem happier,” Mackenzie mentions softly.  
  
“Mackenzie.” Jensen shifts to a slightly different position, rubbing at the ache in his left hip. He doesn’t want to talk about this.  
  
“You do,” she insists. “Happier and more at ease. What’s happened?”  
  
“Nothing.” An image of Jared, of his bright smile and soft-looking hair, pops into Jensen’s head, but he knocks it away, mostly because Hunter is crawling onto his lap and trying to stick his head into Jensen’s lo mein. Jensen bats the cat off his lap, twice, until Hunter finally understands and settles next to him instead, curling into a compact little ball. Smiling, Jensen buries a hand in the soft fur around Hunter’s neck.  
  
“See, like that.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You smiling. And your shoulders aren’t as hunched over and tense.”  
  
“That’s your evidence? Really?” He shakes his head as she shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Nothing has happened.”  
  
“I don’t buy that.”  
  
Jensen sighs, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “You’re not gonna drop this until I tell you something, are you?”   
  
“No,” she says plainly, but she also smiles crookedly.  
  
Jensen hates when she gets like this. He’s never been good at keeping stuff from her. There are things about the accident that no one will ever know.  
  
“Are you still having nightmares?” she asks, quiet and cautious.  
  
“No,” he answers after considering it for a minute. The nightmares used to wake him up every night, shaking and crying as he relived the accident. It got to a point where he didn’t want to sleep for the first week after getting out of the hospital, when he no longer had sedatives pulling him under, but they’ve been getting better lately.  
  
“Good. I’m glad.” She pauses, absently reaching out to pet Hunter. “You know I’m here, right? If you want to talk or anything.”  
  
“I know.” He’ll never take Mackenzie up on her offer, of course. He loves her for trying to help, for putting up with his crappy moods.  
  
“I hate to tell you this, but your cat is a total spaz,” Mackenzie jokes as Hunter practically rolls upside down, trying to attack the drawstring on Jensen’s shorts.  
  
Snorting, Jensen accepts the subject change gratefully and carefully moves Hunter off his lap and away from the sensitive area of his crotch. He knows from experience how deadly the little guy’s claws can be.  
  
“He’s obviously been spending too much time with you,” he teases, then winces when Mackenzie smacks his arm.  
  
“Jerk.”  
  
Jensen smiles. He’s not so sure about Mackenzie’s claim that he’s happier, but things are definitely on an upswing.  
  
:::  
  
He’d deny it to anyone who asks, but Tuesday afternoons quickly become his favorite part of the week. Especially coming off Mondays and his often grueling PT sessions, it’s nice to have something to look forward to, whether it’s for the acknowledged reason of fresh milk and bread or the private one of liking to see Jared.  
  
Jared likes to talk and while Jensen is usually more of a listener, Jared has this knack of drawing answers and stories out of Jensen. He still prefers to listen to Jared, letting his sunny, deep voice fill his kitchen with warmth.  
  
Nothing exciting or earth-shattering ever happens exactly, though a few things stick out for him.  
  
There’s the day Jared seems harried and preoccupied and almost has a panic attack in the middle of the kitchen due to an important paper worth a third of his grade. It’s the first Jensen’s heard of Jared being in college. Jared goes on a long ramble about how he dropped out of school the first time and how it’s taken him years to find something he’s really interested in. He also tells Jensen how he feels like the loser in his family compared to his accomplished brother and sister, biting his lip awkwardly after. Jensen has the feeling Jared doesn’t reveal that part of his life to many people.  
  
Jensen, rather gleefully, gets to say “I told you so” when Jared reports back that he received an A on his paper.  
  
There’s the day Jensen literally can’t get off the couch, too sore from PT to move at all. He and Jared shout at each other between the living room and kitchen. It’s not the same thing as watching Jared as he talks, but it’s still good. Jared hangs back in the living room for a few minutes before leaving, chatting animatedly. Jensen never considered canceling his delivery.  
  
And the day Jared brings him a pie that his aunt made, claiming he’s already eaten two of her famous Dutch apple pies this week and one more might send him over the edge. Jensen has a large slice of it after dinner that night, and it’s worth all the praise Jared gave it.  
  
Mostly, though, they talk about mundane things––food, the weather, Jared’s dogs, Hunter. Jared’s animated when he speaks, his expressive face showing every emotion. His hands fly everywhere, his whole body getting in on the conversion. Jensen can’t help watching him, cataloguing every twitch of Jared’s eyebrows and quirk of his lips. Jared catches him staring a couple times, but it doesn’t stop Jensen from doing it again the next time Jared’s engrossed in one of his stories.  
  
He learns more about Jared’s family, particularly his uncle Craig and aunt Ginny, who own Highland Market. They swap stories about their childhoods and commiserate over being the middle child in their families. Jared talks about school, both the first time he tried it and dropped out and now, when things suddenly clicked for him. Jensen tells Jared about Morgan and Emily and all the shit they did in college.  
  
He never once brings up his other best friend.  
  
:::  
  
After another strenuous PT session, Jensen drags himself down the hall to where Mackenzie waits for him, slumped in a hard plastic chair while she leafs through a magazine. She sets it aside when she hears him thumping along the brightly tiled floor. She stands up and meets him partway, smiling and squeezing his arm gently. Jensen barely covers a wince, all his muscles protesting and sore.  
  
“How’d it go?” she asks as she digs her car keys out of her absurdly large purse, then furrows her brow at his wordless grunt in reply. “That bad, huh?”  
  
Shrugging, Jensen adjusts his crutches and continues down the corridor.  
  
Outside, the sun shines too intensely in a cloudless sky. It feels like it’s beaming directly into his eyes, which does nothing to help with the bone-deep ache already taking up residence in his body.  Jensen ducks his head to avoid the glare as much as possible and waits impatiently for Mackenzie to pull her car around.  
  
Getting into a car is always a production in itself lately, but today is worse and by the time Mackenzie shuts the door for him and goes around to the driver’s side, Jensen can only slump in his seat, head against the coolness of the window and eyes unfocused. Mackenzie puts the car into gear, pausing briefly to curl a hand over his forearm, and Jensen acknowledges her with a small, tired smile.  
  
He’s so out of it that it takes an awfully long time to realize they’re not on their way back to his house. Though the streets are still familiar, they are definitely nowhere near the route back home.  
  
“Where are we going?” he asks, unable to disguise his frustration. Even if he had the energy to moderate his tone, he’s never felt the need to do that around Mackenzie.  
  
“Starbucks. I need coffee,” she answers easily, not looking away from the stretch of road in front of her.  
  
“I have coffee at my house.” Curling his hands into fists in his lap, Jensen swallows as his heart starts pounding nervously.  
  
“Jensen, you can survive for a few minutes in a Starbucks.” She sounds endlessly patient and gentle, but Jensen can’t help the way his stomach is suddenly roiling.  
  
“I’ll just wait in the car,” he insists stubbornly. Unfortunately, Mackenzie is equally as stubborn and seems to have inherited their mom’s you-will-do-as-I-say stare.  
  
Jensen wants to go home and collapse––exhaustion lays heavy on his shoulders and pulls down his eyelids––and he doesn’t want the first place besides the hospital he’s been to since the accident to be a freaking Starbucks, but he’s always overindulged Mackenzie. It was hard not to, when she was tiny and used to look up at him with her big innocent eyes, and it became a habit long ago to give in to her wishes.  
  
“Fine,” he agrees roughly. Even his voice sounds beyond exhausted.  
  
“Great. My caffeine addiction thanks you.”  
  
Crossing his arms over his chest, he closes his eyes but not before he catches the quick grin of triumph that darts across Mackenzie’s face, his own mouth involuntarily tugging up at one corner. He still holds onto his irritation, however, refusing to give in to the panic slowly snaking through his gut.  
  
A few minutes later, Mackenzie parks in the half-empty strip mall lot, thankfully right in front of the door of the Starbucks. Jensen hesitates, voicing once again his desire to stay in the car, then sighs resignedly at her quiet huff. Getting  _out_  of the car is just as much fun, and Jensen grumbles under his breath the whole time, crabby and tense and wishing for the safety of his house. Mackenzie, unsurprisingly, ignores his mumbling and simply stands beside the car with his crutches held loosely in her hands. Really, no coffee, no matter how tasty, is worth this hassle. He takes his crutches anyway and thumps in the door Mackenzie holds open for him.  
  
“Do you want something?” Mackenzie asks with way more consideration than his attitude probably warrants.  
  
Dropping into a chair, Jensen smiles in appreciation and drags an extra chair over to prop his leg on. “Just black coffee, thanks.”  
  
She nods and heads up to the counter, leaving Jensen alone to wait. He glances around the room from his table in the corner. It’s mostly empty, only a handful of people scattered around the room, and none of them seem to pay him any attention. Jensen still wants to hide, to cover the marks on his face with his hands so he doesn’t have to see the questions in anyone’s eyes.  
  
The door swishes open, and Jensen watches a tall figure with a familiar head of shaggy hair walk inside. Jensen’s stomach flips over, and he sits up straighter in the chair, flushing all over as Jared’s eyes land on him. Jared breaks into a brilliant smile, his dimples appearing and teeth flashing white. Jensen wants to disappear, and he wants to wave Jared over. Instead, he sits nervously while Jared works his way over to the table.  
  
“Jensen, hi,” Jared greets him happily. “What are you doing here?” he asks, then immediately blushes at the foolish question.  
  
Jensen curls his hands into loose fists so he won’t reach out and press his thumbs to the heat in Jared’s cheeks.  
  
Before Jensen can say anything, Jared ducks his head and mumbles, “Um, I’m just gonna go––” He points over his shoulder toward the counter and shuffles off, Jensen staring after him with a slight smile.  
  
“Who was  _that_ ?” Mackenzie demands suddenly from behind him, startling Jensen. She passes over his coffee and slides into the seat next to him, gaze never wavering from Jared.  
  
“Oh. Uh. That’s Jared,” Jensen answers somewhat reluctantly. “He’s the one that’s been delivering my groceries.”  
  
“Oh.” Mackenzie turns to him with an amused, knowing expression. “I see.”  
  
“Mac,” he warns, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
She smiles at him with the false innocence he stopped believing when she was 10 and trying to get him to give her extra dessert.  
  
“Hey, Jared! Come join us,” Mackenzie suggests a minute later, and a wave of panic makes Jensen’s heart stutter.  
  
Jared looks slightly alarmed at this, glancing quickly from Jensen to where Mackenzie has a quelling hand on Jensen’s arm. After a moment, he nods, altering his course and coming toward their table instead.  
  
“Um, sure. Just for a few minutes, though. I have to get to class.” Jared takes the last empty seat, smiling uneasily and wrapping his hands around his paper cup.  
  
“Oh. Sorry,” Jensen says, clearing his throat. “This is my sister, Mackenzie, and this is Jared. He works for Highland Market.” He feels off-kilter introducing these two separate parts of his life to each other.  
  
Jensen tracks how the tension drains out of Jared’s face, his smile widening and becoming more genuine.  
  
“You’re Mackenzie? It’s good to meet you,” Jared tells her easily. He holds out a hand to her, which Mackenzie shakes, shooting Jensen a knowing look that he ignores by swallowing a mouthful of coffee.  
  
“You, too,” Mackenzie replies. “You mentioned a class? What are you taking?”  
  
Jensen tunes out while Mackenzie and Jared discuss school and the UT Dallas campus. Instead, he concentrates on his coffee and not staring at the line of Jared’s neck, more visible today in his plain blue t-shirt than in the Highland Market polo and jacket.  
  
“You look really beat, Jensen. You had physical therapy today, right?” Jared asks, and Jensen snaps back to attention.  
  
“Uh, yeah. Just came from there.” He wonders how bad he looks if Jared’s commenting on it.  
  
“Must’ve been tough today. You look like you’re ready to take a nap on the table.”  
  
Jared smiles at him, warm and easy, and Jensen feels his face flush. Dropping his eyes to the table to avoid Jared’s concerned gaze, Jensen laughs ruefully.  
  
“Today was pretty bad, yeah. But it’s been worse.”  
  
“I remember.”  
  
When Mackenzie makes a quiet noise at that, Jensen sighs inwardly. He’s not looking forward to the interrogation she undoubtedly has planned.  
  
“Shit. I’m sorry to run out on you guys, but I have to leave now if I’m gonna make it on campus in time for my class.” Jared grimaces, standing up and sliding the strap of his bag over his shoulder.  
  
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
  
Jared grins. “Definitely. It was great meeting you, Mackenzie.”  
  
“Same. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”  
  
Jensen doesn’t miss the sly look she sends him.  
  
It takes approximately 10 seconds after Jared leaves for Mackenzie to turn toward him, eyebrows raised, and say, “So. Jared, huh?”  
  
“Don’t start, Mac.”  
  
“He seems nice.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And he’s really hot.”  
  
“Ye––” Snapping his mouth shut, Jensen glares at her. “Mackenzie,” he warns and thankfully, for the first time in her life, Mackenzie lets a subject drop.  
  
“All right. You ready to go?”  
  
More than, but all he does is nod.  
  
They’re quiet in the car, Jensen once again slumped over and half-asleep against the window. Jensen tries not to think about Jared or his infectious smiles.  
  
When they get back to his house, Mackenzie comes around to the passenger side and helps him get out, then hands him his crutches. Jensen bends down to kiss her cheek.  
  
“Thanks for driving me today,” he says, hoping she’ll take it as an apology for his pissy mood.  
  
“Anytime. You know that.”  
  
Nodding, he smiles. He does, though he can’t stop from chafing at how useless he feels sometimes.  
  
“You want me to bring Hunter by later this week?”  
  
“If you don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course not. Go on inside, Jensen. I know you want to crash. I’ll call you in a couple days.”  
  
“Thanks, Mac.”  
  
She waves him away and gets back in the car, waiting till he opens the front door before pulling out of the driveway.

:::  
  
Jared sets the bags on the counter. It’s more than the usual bread and milk today, so the bags spread over most of the counter. Jensen started attempting to make himself simple things last week, sandwiches and things that don’t require too much time on his feet, and he feels better about not having to rely as much on other people or all the takeout places nearby.  
  
“You’re running late today,” Jensen mentions, and Jared shrugs. His usually bright smile has dimmed, frown lines visible between his eyes. Jensen shifts on his good leg, uncomfortable with the silence. Though he hasn’t known Jared long, he’s never seen Jared like this––quiet, almost withdrawn.  
  
“Forgot to set my alarm. Woke up late,” Jared finally replies.  
  
“Oh.” Jensen’s at a loss, not sure how to deal with an unresponsive Jared.  
  
Jared hesitates with a box of macaroni in his hand. Jensen doesn’t know why he’s paying attention to that, but he can’t stop staring at the blue and yellow label. It somehow seems better than focusing on Jared’s lack of a smile.  
  
“So I remembered that I saw something about it in the paper,” Jared begins tentatively, and Jensen frowns, puzzled. “I’m so sorry about your partner, Jensen.”  
  
Jared continues in a halting voice. Jensen can’t hear anything he says, Jared’s voice just a buzzing in his ears. He’s suddenly frozen in place, his heart slowing down to beat sluggishly through his veins. His kitchen and everything around him recede. He’s back in the car with Shane, sees Shane’s eyes widen a second before the SUV hits them and the world explodes in broken glass and pain. Shane’s screams echo in his head, and the only thing louder is the pulse beating hard in his ears.  
  
Jensen’s breath punches out of him in short bursts, and his vision goes blurry. He’s unaware of time passing, but eventually he recognizes Jared’s voice, frantically calling his name, and reality crashes back in on a harsh breath.  
  
Hands shaking, Jensen leans on the counter across from Jared and growls, “Stop.”  
  
Jared stutters to a halt, gazing at Jensen with the pity he so hates, and something in Jensen snaps at seeing that look from Jared.  
  
“You need to leave,” he tells Jared in an emotionless monotone that, deep down, scares him a little.  
  
“Jensen?”  
  
“You need to leave,” he repeats.  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”  
  
“I don’t care.” More emotion creeps in around the edges of his words the longer Jared stands there, staring at Jensen with a stricken expression twisting his beautiful face. Right now he doesn’t want to feel anything. He forces everything down, thoughts of Shane and how wrong it seems to see Jared like that, pushes it all back behind the walls he’d built up around him.  
  
“I’m sorry. Let me put this stuff away and then I’ll—”  
  
“No!” Jensen smacks his hand down on the counter, and Jared flinches, taking a step back. “Just go,” Jensen says tiredly.  
  
Jared nods jerkily, then spins on his heel to leave the kitchen. Jensen stumps after him as fast as his crutches will allow him, making sure Jared actually goes.  
  
He pauses once in the living room, turning around to face Jensen, hands up in what’s probably meant to be a calming gesture. “Jensen, I swear I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—”  
  
Jensen cuts him off with a harsh “Go!” Jared snaps his mouth shut and swallows hard, head hanging low before he continues toward the door.  
  
He shuts the front door as soon as Jared’s over the threshold. A minute later, there’s a quiet knock, which irrationally angers Jensen. Can’t Jared take a fucking hint? The knocking continues, so Jensen reluctantly opens the door.  
  
“I’m sorry. You still need to sign this,” Jared explains meekly, holding out the familiar Highland Market form.  
  
Snatching the form and pen out of Jared’s hand, Jensen signs it quickly, pen scratching loudly over the paper and nearly tearing it with the force of his writing. He shoves the paper back to Jared and pushes the door closed in Jared’s face, cutting off his continued apologies.  
  
Using his crutches as leverage, Jensen slides down to sit on the floor, ignoring the twinge in his bad leg and the cramp that immediately forms in his hip. He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the cold wood of the door as memories assault him. Memories of the past with Shane, of his crooked smile and infectious laugh, of the shit he used to try to involve Jensen in, of his compassion and endlessly giving heart. And memories of the accident, how quickly things went from routine to chaos, changing everything about the life Jensen took for granted.  
  
Jensen stays there for a long time, ass and legs going numb as silent tears track down his cheeks, until his heart is once again empty and frozen.  
  
:::  
  
Jensen can’t sleep that night, plagued by nightmares like he hasn’t been in awhile. He dreams of the accident, of how futile he was in stopping it. He dreams of Shane’s funeral, the colors washed out and dreary, unlike how it’d actually been that day. And he dreams of Jared, watching his bright smile die and his shoulders slump. Somehow that one’s the most painful, the one that wakes him up with a jerk and keeps him up for the rest of the night, unable to escape the images flashing behind his eyes.  
  
He drags himself out of bed around dawn. There are things he’ll never figure out, but one thing he knows is that he was a dick to Jared. It’s not Jared’s fault that he triggered all the pain and depression Jensen keeps locked away. Jared’s been his one refuge in all this, the only person that doesn’t constantly ask Jensen if he’s all right or needs help with something or reminds him of what his life used to be like and what he lost. Jared mentioning Shane broke through Jensen’s walls in a way he didn’t expect. Still, he may have overreacted a bit.  
  
He wants to apologize, get things back to how they were before, but he has no way to get ahold of Jared. They never exchanged phone numbers or anything. Jensen doesn’t even know Jared’s last name or if Jared considers him a friend or just another client. He supposes he could call Highland Market and track Jared down that way or contact friends on the force and have them search for Jared in the system. That feels like an invasion of privacy at a level he’s not remotely comfortable with. He’s never used his connections like that, except to do a background check on one of Mackenzie’s boyfriends that he was convinced had been arrested for armed robbery a couple times, and he’d been correct. Mackenzie stopped talking to him for close to a month, but she’d also broken up with the asshole.  
  
Sighing, Jensen scrubs a hand over his face, then hobbles into the kitchen. The bags of food are still covering the counter since he never bothered putting anything away after Jared left. Most of it spoiled, of course, and Jensen throws it away in disgust, including that damn box of macaroni, chucking everything into the trash with more force than strictly necessary and enjoying every dull thud.  
  
“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?” comes an unexpected voice behind him.  
  
Jensen jumps, whirling around too fast and tangling himself in his crutches. “Jesus Christ, Morgan!” he yells, his hand pressed to his chest over his racing heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”  
  
“Sorry. I did knock.” Morgan eyes him for a minute. “What’s wrong?” he asks seriously and walks closer, reaching out to help Jensen right his crutches.  
  
“I’m kinda an asshole.” Jensen slumps against the counter, ignoring the way his hip protests, twinging painfully  
  
“I’ve known that since we were 18.” Morgan grins at Jensen’s withering look, then squeezes Jensen’s shoulder. “What happened, Jense?”  
  
“I blew up at Jared yesterday, and he really didn’t do anything wrong.” Jensen hasn’t talked much about Jared with anybody. He likes keeping Jared to himself in a way, this private thing that he doesn’t have to share with the world. He did tell Morgan a little about him so Morgan wouldn’t worry so much about the stranger delivering Jensen’s groceries. “I wanna apologize but—” He shakes his head, spreading his hands out helplessly.  
  
“I wouldn’t worry. He’ll be back next week, right? You can apologize then. I’m sure he won’t hold it against you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jensen sighs, though a part of him worries that he may have ruined whatever was developing between them. “What are you doing here anyway?”  
  
“To give you a sponge bath. Duh.”  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Why are you always trying to see me naked, Morgan?”  
  
“I’m jealous of your impressive physique.”  
  
“Uh-huh, sure.” It’s not all that impressive anymore, what with being basically immobile for weeks and too sore to do much. His PT sessions are the only exercise he gets nowadays. “Why are you really here?”  
  
“You didn’t answer yesterday evening when I called or when Emily called a couple hours later.”  
  
“So you’re checking up on me?” He tries not to get angry, he really does. It’s difficult to remain calm when Morgan treats him like a five-year-old incapable of taking care of himself.  
  
“Yes,” Morgan says plainly. He stands up straighter and calmly meets Jensen’s hard look. “I’m gonna worry about you, Jensen. You can’t ask me to stop. You’re my best friend and I love you, though God knows why when you act like a grumpy bastard.”  
  
He swallows thickly and drops his head, feeling contrite. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Thanks.”  
  
Slipping an arm across Jensen’s shoulders, Morgan pats a hand on Jensen’s chest and grins. “So since I’m here, you want to do something? Watch a movie or whatever?”  
  
Just then, Jensen’s stomach rumbles, and he abruptly realizes he hasn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. “You can feed me first,” he says, turning it into a joke he doesn’t actually feel.  
  
“I’m not your bitch,” Morgan protests, though he’s already moving toward the fridge.  
  
“Of course you’re not.”  
  
Huffing, Morgan opens the fridge and stares inside it for a few moments. “Omelet or frozen waffles?”  
  
“Both?” Jensen asks hopefully.  
  
“Fine. But I’m not cutting the waffles into heart shapes or anything.”  
  
Jensen laughs and moves over to carefully grab plates and glasses out of the cupboard.     
  
Once Morgan leaves and Jensen’s on his own, he mopes. He hates to admit it, but there’s really no denying it. He spends most of the days sitting on the couch like a lump, unable to concentrate on TV or much of anything. It borders on pathetic, but Jensen can’t seem to snap out of the funk.  
  
Morgan and Emily’s attempts to cheer him up fall flat, and even Mackenzie bringing Hunter for another visit fails to improve his mood.  
  
It gets worse on Tuesday when, instead of Jared, a stranger comes to deliver Jensen’s groceries. He’s not as friendly as Jared or as young and good looking. He wears an almost stern expression, and Jensen finds himself sorely missing Jared’s smile.  
  
The new guy unceremoniously dumps Jensen’s groceries on the counter and hands Jensen the form to sign with a quiet grunt. He doesn’t offer to put anything away or attempt to talk to Jensen at all. He wasn’t planning to say anything. He’s missing Jared’s enthusiasm and soothing, deep voice too much to  keep silent anymore, no matter how desperate it makes him feel.  
  
“Where’s the usual guy? Jared?” Jensen adds when the other man stares at him blankly.  
  
“Called in sick,” he states gruffly.  
  
“Oh. Okay.” That gives him some hope. Jared called in sick. He didn’t quit or change his schedule to avoid Jensen. Maybe that means he’ll be back next week.  
  
“You done with that form yet?”  
  
Jensen wonders what his hurry is. Jared always has time to tell Jensen stories about his classes or Sadie and Harley or whatever else pops into his head.  
  
“Yeah, sorry.”  
  
He signs the form, and the guy’s out of the kitchen a second later. Jensen hears the front door shut before he has a chance to even make it to the kitchen doorway. Sighing, Jensen slumps back onto the couch.  
  
A few days later, when Jensen puts in his order on the Highland Market website, he can only hope that Jared shows up on Tuesday.  
  
:::  
  
It’s ridiculous, how Jensen’s palms sweat when he hears the knock on his door that Tuesday. He wipes them off on his shorts and calls a quick “Coming!” He stops himself from analyzing the knock to guess whether or not it’s Jared. It takes him awhile to maneuver off the couch and to open the door; he’s much better with his crutches now, but he’s surprisingly out of shape and awkward after spending so long brooding on the couch.  
  
He nearly sags in relief when he finds Jared on his doorstep, green grocery bags at his feet. The crutches keep him upright when his good leg wobbles.  
  
“Hi,” Jensen says after a strained few minutes of staring at each other.  
  
“Hi.” Dropping his head, Jared blows out a breath. There’s a light flush staining his cheeks and creeping down his neck. Jensen has a strange urge to press his thumbs into the corners of Jared’s mouth to get him to smile.  
  
“I—” Jensen starts and quickly changes his mind. “Come in. Please.”  
  
Jared shuffles inside, looking terribly awkward with his head bowed and shoulders curved in.  
  
“Jared, wait.”  
  
Jared stops, lowering the bags to the floor and slowly turning to face Jensen. He stuffs his hands in his pants pockets and, really, Jensen dislikes this subdued and almost-sad Jared.  
  
“About last time.” Jared opens his mouth to say something, probably to apologize again, but Jensen cuts him off with an upraised palm. “Just let me say this, okay?”  
  
Visibly swallowing, Jared nods.  
  
“I’m sorry about that, about freaking out on you like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. Since the accident, I’ve been…repressing everything, I guess. People keep telling me I need to talk about it, but I just—I can’t. And when you brought it up the other day, it reminded me of everything I’m trying to forget. You didn’t deserve any of that, and I’m sorry.”  
  
Jared shakes his head. He still has his hands in his pockets, though his posture had loosened somewhat. “No, Jensen, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I knew you avoided the topic but after remembering reading about it, I wanted to say something, and I shouldn’t have.”  
  
“You didn’t know I’d flip out on you.” Jensen hadn’t known he’d react like that either. Avoiding the topic is a polite way of saying he refused to talk about what happened, with anybody.  
  
“I’m still sorry.”  
  
“Can we agree that we’re both sorry and move on?” Jensen asks, smiling slightly. Jared smiles back tentatively, and that pretty much breaks Jensen’s heart. He misses Jared’s usual bright and easy smile. “Come on into the kitchen and you can put that stuff away.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Jared gathers the bags into his hands, hesitating slightly before following him. Jensen pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at Jared.  
  
“If you ever want to talk, I’m willing to listen.”  
  
Jensen’s stomach swoops, but it’s not in the panic that usually accompanies someone trying to get him to open up.  
  
“Thank you,” he murmurs, and that gets him a genuine smile from Jared.  
  
Jared dumps everything on the counter and starts emptying bags. Jensen takes up his usual post on the other side of the island, resting his crutches against the counter and propping his chin in one hand.  
  
“So, how’s class been this week?” It’s a desperate attempt to get things back to normal, and he knows Jared recognizes it as such. To his credit, Jared doesn’t let on, except for a slight twitch of his eyebrows.  
  
“Not bad,” he answers, voice muffled with his head stuck in the fridge. “I have a big project coming up in my finance class that won’t be much fun, but the rest of my classes are going pretty well.”  
  
“What’s the project about?”  
  
Jared keeps talking, explaining his project, but Jensen only half listens, concentrating more on the cadence of Jared’s voice and watching him slowly relax. The lines between his brows smooth out, and he moves around the kitchen comfortably, his posture no longer stiff and tense. His smile comes more easily, his dimples making a brief appearance, and the bundle of worry in Jensen’s stomach unknots itself.  
  
:::  
  
“Here, I finally got a picture of Hunter. I had Mackenzie take it last time she brought him over.”  
  
Jensen hands over the picture, inexplicably nervous as he watches Jared look it over. He’d wanted a shot of Hunter on his own so he could show Jared after all their conversations about their pets. Instead, Mackenzie snapped a picture of Hunter sprawled over Jensen’s lap, hanging upside down in order to bat at the drawstring on Jensen’s hoodie.  
  
“He’s cute,” Jared tells him, eyes still on the photo. “Looks like a handful, though.”  
  
Jensen barks out a laugh. “You have no idea. There’s a reason I call him a brat sometimes.”  
  
Jared grins and opens his mouth to say something, then hesitates, fidgeting slightly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’ve just never seen you this relaxed. You have a great smile, Jensen. I wish I could see it more.”  
  
Flushing, Jensen ducks his head. “Oh.” He hasn’t had much to smile about lately. Except the man standing in front of him right now. “It’s kinda hard not to smile at Hunter.”  
  
The side of Jared’s mouth quirks up into a half-smile, then he falls unusually quiet and still. Jensen tenses, remembering last time that happened.  
  
“Jensen, can I ask you something?” Jared says finally, staring at his hands and refusing to meet Jensen’s eyes.  
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
“Do you––would you go to dinner with me? Or a movie, whatever. Just something,” he rambles.  
  
Jensen’s stomach turns over. “Jared––”  
  
Jared flushes, looking uncomfortable and stiff. “You know what? Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.” Pushing away from the counter, he takes a step toward the doorway.  
  
“Jared, wait.”  
  
He’s not ready to leave the house yet, not on a regular basis anyway, but he’s also not ready to let Jared walk away from whatever this is.  
  
Jared turns back around, eyes focusing on something over Jensen’s shoulder. Drawing in a deep breath, Jensen thumps forward a few steps so he’s right in front of Jared. This is a big leap for him, a risk he’s not used to taking, but something about Jared makes him willing to forge ahead. Jared stares at him silently, eyes wide with curiosity and maybe a little hope.  
  
Jensen’s sure Jared’s reaction will be favorable, but that doesn’t ease the knot of fear from bunching at the base of his neck. Still, he leans in closer, near enough to feel Jared’s body heat, warm and comforting and surrounding him so completely.  
  
Jensen keeps his eyes open as he moves in, watching Jared’s dark eyelashes flutter against his flushed cheeks, only closing them after their mouths connect. It’s gentle, so slow and sweet that Jensen’s toes literally curl. Jensen shivers as Jared sighs into his mouth, a warm puff of air that awakens nerve endings Jensen thought were long dead.  
  
Jared wraps his arms around Jensen, sliding one broad palm down Jensen’s spine to rest at the small of his back, urging him closer. Letting his crutches fall to the floor with a loud clatter he barely registers, Jensen snakes his arms around Jared’s neck and buries his hands into the curls at the back of Jared’s head. His hair is as soft and silky as Jensen imagined, and he combs his fingers through the tangles, reveling in the contented noise that rumbles through Jared’s chest.  
  
They kiss until Jensen’s lungs burn with the need to breathe. They break away at the same time, Jared turning his head slightly to pant against Jensen’s cheek. Jensen wants to say something but doesn’t know what. His brain is buzzing pleasantly, and all he can think about is diving back in, claiming Jared’s mouth again until their lips are swollen and numb.  
  
“I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I saw you,” Jared confesses, cupping Jensen’s neck and pressing soft kisses to his face.  
  
“Yeah?” Jensen can’t help arching into the touch, though part of him wants to jerk away when Jared’s lips skim gently over the raised scars on his cheeks and above his eye. Jared won’t let him go, though, and honestly, there’s nowhere else Jensen wants to be.  
  
He brings Jared’s head down to take his mouth again, tucking himself against Jared’s big body, as close as he can get. Jared holds him tightly, bracing Jensen when he wobbles a bit on his unsteady casted leg. This isn’t the most comfortable position, but there’s no way Jensen’s moving right now.  
  
Jared makes a sound in the back of his throat, this deep growl that Jensen immediately wants to hear over and over, and suddenly things go from soft exploration to deep and hungry. Jared sucks Jensen’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting down slightly, then swipes his tongue over the spot to soothe the hurt. Whimpering, Jensen opens his mouth wider and almost dies at the first taste of Jared’s tongue slip-sliding hotly against his.  
  
Eventually, though, Jared pulls away with an apologetic frown tugging down his eyebrows. Jensen chases his mouth, then huffs dejectedly.  
  
“Sorry,” Jared says, brushing a thumb across Jensen’s cheek. “I should go. I still have deliveries to do.”  
  
“Can you come back after work?”  
  
“I wish I could. I have class and an exam, so I really can’t skip.”  
  
“Tomorrow?”  
  
Jared laughs, but Jensen doesn’t care if he sounds too eager. He wants to spend some time with Jared when he’s not getting paid to put his groceries away. And maybe it’s time he opens up a bit to Jared. He has to trust somebody with what happened, since holding it in is obviously not working, considering his earlier freak out when Jared mentioned the accident. He thinks Jared might be the right person to finally tell the story to.  
  
“I can stop by tomorrow.”  
  
“Come by anytime. You know I’ll be here.”  
  
“All right. I really should go now.”  
  
Jensen bites his lip, rolling it into his mouth, smirking inwardly when Jared groans and reaches for Jensen again, their mouths crashing together. Jared cups Jensen’s face, fingers stroking lightly over his cheeks. Jensen’s just getting used to the wet, hot, amazing taste of Jared’s mouth when Jared drags himself away, breathing hard.  
  
“I really need to go,” Jared repeats and peels his body away from Jensen. Jensen sways for a moment until Jared catches him, then bends down to retrieve Jensen’s crutches. “Here,” he says, carefully placing the crutches under Jensen’s arms.  
  
“Thanks,” Jensen tells him, holding tight to the crutches so he won’t reach out to haul Jared back in. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
  
“Definitely.” He leans in to briefly kiss Jensen on the corner of his mouth, then pulls the form out of his back pocket for Jensen to sign.  
  
Jensen follows him to the door, silently appreciating the breadth of Jared’s shoulders and the tightness of Jared’s jeans. “Good luck on your exam.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jared replies and flashes him a wide, brilliant smile, dimples digging deep in his cheeks.  
  
:::  
  
It’s later in the afternoon before Jared shows up. Jensen spent the morning catching up on the TV shows he was too busy moping to enjoy over the last two weeks. And perking up expectantly every time he hears a noise outside.  
  
He’s dozing on the couch when Jared finally arrives. He stretches, rubbing at his eyes.  
  
“Hang on!” he calls, hoping the eagerness isn’t obvious in his voice, and grabs his crutches from the floor.  
  
When he opens the door, Jared barely gets out a “hi” before Jensen tugs him into a kiss. It’s even better than yesterday, since this time he knows what makes Jared’s breath hitch or fingers curl in Jensen’s shirt.  
  
“Miss me or something?” Jared teases, and Jensen answers with another long, thorough kiss.  
  
After a few minutes, they break apart, then settle on the couch. Jared helps Jensen prop his leg on the coffee table, taking a long moment to stare at Jensen’s cast.  
  
“So, we need to talk,” Jensen says hesitantly. “Or I need to talk, if you’re still willing to listen.”  
  
“Of course I am.”  
  
“I think I owe you an explanation about Shane and what happened the day he—” Jensen cuts off, and Jared squeezes his hand.  
  
“Jensen, you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to tell me, not unless you’re ready.”  
  
“I am. Honestly.” That was what else he did this morning—decided it’s time to stop holding back. He can’t avoid talking about Shane for the rest of his life; that’s a disservice to Shane’s memory. He doesn’t know why and it doesn’t really matter, but he trusts Jared with this. “Can you—” Jensen pauses to rub a hand over his face. “Can you not watch me while I tell you?”  
  
“Oh, Jensen.”  
  
And that right there, the pity and sympathy in Jared’s voice, that’s why he can’t do this with Jared looking at him.  
  
“Can I stay close, though?” Jared asks.  
  
“Yeah. Please.”  
  
After some maneuvering, Jared curls on his side with his head pillowed on Jensen’s good thigh. It’s oddly intimate, considering they just kissed for the first time the day before, but it’s soothing somehow, with Jared’s warm breath fanning over Jensen’s leg and his hand resting on the back of Jared’s neck.  
  
“Shane and I met when we were both rookies on the force,” Jensen starts slowly. “He was such a pain in the ass but one of those guys you can’t help being drawn to. I don’t know what it was about him, but we clicked right away, became instant friends. He was loud and fun and often made me roll my eyes or want to smack him upside the head, but he was an amazing guy and an even better officer.”  
  
“Were you in love with him?” Jared murmurs.  
  
Closing his eyes, Jensen leans his head back against the cushions and pictures Shane—his quick smile and too-wide eyes, dark hair sheared into a buzzcut. “Maybe for about five minutes when we first met. Didn’t last past the first day.”  
  
“I thought that might be why you—” Jared trails off, shifting so his head rests back against Jensen’s stomach.  
  
“You wouldn’t be the first. But, no, Shane was just my best friend.” Which is wrong and unfair. Shane was never  _just_ anything.  
  
“Okay. Sorry for interrupting. Go on.”  
  
Jensen clears his throat and takes a deep breath before continuing. “We had different partners at first, of course, being rookies and all. Shane’s was this typical, grizzled old cop, very set in his ways and didn’t put up with any crap, which Shane needed. He’d get…enthusiastic sometimes and need to be knocked back down to a reasonable level. They were a good team.  
  
“Anyway. When Michaels retired, we went to Captain Crawford and convinced him to let me be Shane’s new partner. Well, Shane did most of the convincing. I just sat there trying not to seem too hopeful. And see, that was the thing about Shane. It was so hard to tell him no.”  
  
Jensen falters, swallowing thickly. Jared slides a hand over to cup Jensen’s knee, and it grounds Jensen, brings him back from the past long enough to figure out where to go from there.  
  
“We were only partners for a couple years. It was great. There’s nothing like working that closely with your best friend and knowing he has your back if everything goes to shit. Which of course it did, several times, but we always scraped through together.  
  
“We had a deal to take turns driving. Michaels never let Shane behind the wheel, and he chafed at the restriction. I didn’t care either way, so I agreed. On the day of the accident, it was my turn to drive, but the department had just gotten brand new cruisers, fancy ones with all the bells and whistles, and Shane begged me into handing over the keys.  
  
“We were heading back to the station after dealing with a robbery at a gas station. Routine stuff. We stopped at a light. Shane said something. I don’t remember what, but it was probably something stupid. The light turned green, and a drunk driver coming the other way ran the red light and plowed into us, t-boned the cruiser at 45 mph. I saw the SUV hit and heard Shane scream, then blacked out. Woke up a day later in the hospital in so much pain I couldn’t see straight.”  
  
Jared lets out a distressed-sounding noise and curls closer to Jensen. Mindlessly, Jensen begins combing his fingers through Jared’s silky hair, the repetitive motion calming him down.  
  
“My mom told me about Shane, said that he died on impact, but I never found out whether or not that was a lie to make me feel better. I was…inconsolable at the news. The doctor had to sedate me. I woke up again in time for the funeral, though. Everyone tried to talk me out of going because I needed surgery on my leg, which was badly broken in several places, but I refused to miss it. I was ready to check myself out, though my mom and Morgan convinced the doctor to release me. They did what they could, drugged me up, then did the surgery the next day. And another one a week later. I was lucky not to have done more permanent damage.”  
  
Though it’s probably a bad enough injury to keep him from ever doing fieldwork again. He’s slowly coming to terms with that.  
  
“I didn’t just lose my best friend and partner that day. Shane was so much more than that. He was like a brother to me. And I guess I haven’t been coping very well since then.” Jensen blows out a breath. It feels surprisingly good to get all that out. It’ll still be awhile before he’s fully healed.  
  
Jared breaks the short silence then, sitting up and staring at Jensen intently. There are tears in his eyes, and Jensen scrubs at the wetness on his own cheeks, dropping his gaze from Jared’s.  
  
“Jensen, you don’t blame yourself for Shane’s death, do you?”  
  
“No. I felt guilty for a long time but not anymore. Maybe it should’ve been me driving that day, but it was Shane’s choice to drive, and I know there’s nothing I could’ve done to stop him. He was a stubborn bastard.”  
  
“Good. I’m glad, because it’s not your fault. And I’m happy you trusted me enough to tell me all this.” Jared holds Jensen’s face gently, like he’s something precious, and kisses him lightly.  
  
“You make me feel—” Blinking back more tears, Jensen buries his head in the crook of Jared’s neck.  
  
“Feel what?”  
  
“Just  _feel_ . I didn’t realize how numb I’d been until you smiled at me,” he confesses, hope flaring inside. “I want to see what we have together. Are you willing to stick with a broken cop?”  
  
“Hey,” Jared protests. Lifting Jensen’s head, he caresses his thumbs across Jensen’s cheeks. “You’re not broken. Bruised and battered and a little sore, but you’re  _not_  broken. And I’m gonna be here to prove that to you.”  
  
Jensen smiles, breathing easier. “Thank you.”  
  
“Nothing to thank me for.” Jared kisses him, then bends down to press a kiss to a spot on Jensen’s cast, right below his knee.  
  
“You’re nuts.”  
  
Jared twists to grin up at him, and Jensen laughs, feeling lighter than he has in months.  
  
:::  
  
“I’ll get it!” Morgan yells, skidding into the living room from the kitchen. “I can’t wait for this!” he says, rubbing his hands together like a villain in a Bond film.  
  
“Be nice!” Jensen insists as he quickly scrambles off the couch. Too quickly. His crutch gets caught on the leg of the couch, and he nearly faceplants into the coffee table before righting himself. By the time he reaches the front door, it’s too late. Morgan’s already there, facing down a nervous-looking Jared.  
  
“Hi. You must be Jared. It’s good to finally meet you.” Morgan throws a reproving glance at Jensen over his shoulder, as if Jensen’s been keeping them apart for weeks on purpose. Okay, maybe he has. He and Jared have been dating for less than a month; sue him if he wanted to keep his boyfriend to himself for a little while.  
  
“Um, hi. Yeah, I’m Jared. You’re Morgan?”  
  
“Sure am. Have you been talking about me, Jense? I’m touched.”  
  
“Shut up, asshole,” Jensen mutters, shouldering Morgan out of the way so he can kiss Jared hello. Jared relaxes against him, hand coming up to rest lightly on Jensen’s nape. “Hey.” Jensen smiles, happy to see Jared’s dimples make an appearance. “Just ignore Morgan. That’s what I do.”  
  
“Jerk.” Morgan cuffs Jensen on the side of the head before turning back to Jared. “I have a question for you, Jared.”  
  
“Morgan, leave the poor guy alone,” Emily says, slipping an arm around Morgan’s waist and drawing him back a bit. “I’m Emily. It’s really great to meet you, Jared.”  
  
“You, too.” Jared smiles at her and, unsurprisingly, she completely melts. Jensen knows exactly how she feels.  
  
Morgan clears his throat, stepping forward again.  
  
“You don’t have to answer anything Morgan asks,” Emily assures Jared.  
  
“No, it’s all right. I’m sure he’s just looking out for Jensen, and I can respect that.”  
  
Jensen glares at Morgan and braces for a what-are-your-intentions-toward-my-frien d interrogation, but Morgan surprises him.  
  
“Is it really part of your job to put the groceries away?”  
  
“Uh, not really?” Jared answers hesitantly, darting a quick look at Jensen.  
  
“Ha! Told you so!” Morgan crows. Jensen tunes him out.  
  
“It’s not?” he asks. Jared glances down guiltily. His hair falls into his eyes, and Jensen brushes it back for him.  
  
“No. I, uh, wanted an excuse to talk to you, spend some time with you, and get to know you. We’re actually not allowed to do more than drop the groceries off and leave. Good thing I work for my uncle, huh?” Jared finishes sheepishly.  
  
“That’s sweet. Kinda creepy,” Jensen tells him with a grin, “but sweet.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jared visibly deflates at that, his body no longer so tense and rigid. Hooking an arm around Jensen’s waist, Jared moves right up against Jensen and bends his head for a deep kiss.  
  
“I hate to break up your little love fest, but there’s something beeping in the kitchen,” Morgan puts in, tone dry and not at all apologetic.  
  
“Shit. Thanks.”  
  
Jensen thumps away to go rescue dinner, hissing a “be nice!” to Morgan as he passes. Morgan simply grins, and Jensen rolls his eyes. He knows Morgan’s being an asshole just to test Jared, Jensen’s put up with it enough over the years, but that doesn’t mean it’s not really freaking annoying. He’s a little worried about leaving Jared alone with Morgan and Emily, but he’s more worried about burning his spaghetti sauce, especially since Emily will be there to temper Morgan’s attitude.  
  
Jensen stirs the sauce and checks on the pasta. This is the first full-on meal he’s attempted to cook from scratch in ages, and he couldn’t have done it without Morgan and Emily’s help. He wanted to do something nice for Jared, though, and it’s time he starts trying to fit back into the real world.  
  
Feeling slim arms wrap around him from behind, Jensen leans back against Emily.  
  
“Hey, baby,” she says, hooking her chin over his shoulder. “Need a hand?”  
  
“Nah, it’s good for now. Once the pasta’s done, though. Thanks.”  
  
“Jared seems pretty great.”  
  
Jensen flushes at her admission. It’s ridiculously important to him that his friends get along with Jared. “And yet you left him at Morgan’s mercy."  
  
Emily laughs and squeezes his waist. “I think he’ll be okay. He seems capable of holding his own against Morgan. Plus, I threatened Morgan with cleaning the house for a month if he didn’t behave himself.”  
  
Jensen snorts.  
  
“You seem happy,” she says quietly after a few moments of silence.  
  
Jensen thinks about that for a minute, about these last several weeks with Jared, and how much his life shifted in a split second after a car failed to stop at a red light. “I am,” he answers, an uncontrollable smile tugging at his lips.  
  
“I’m glad. Jared’s good for you.”  
  
Jensen looks up to where Jared’s talking to Morgan in the living room. Their eyes meet, and Jared flashes him a warm, fond smile that hits Jensen right in the chest. “Yeah. He is.”  
  
 **Epilogue**  
  
At the sound of someone knocking on his door, Jensen hops off the couch and throws the door open wide, then smiles as Jared leans in to kiss him, wet and hungry. Jensen curls his hand around the doorjamb for balance and licks his lips dazedly when Jared lets him go.  
  
“Hi,” Jared says, the roughness in his voice sending shivers down Jensen’s spine. As he steps inside, his eyes go comically wide. “Well, look at you! Standing on two feet again!”  
  
Jensen grins and spreads his arms to display the lack of crutches. The cast came off just yesterday, so he’s still a bit wobbly and it’ll take some time and lots of work to get back a normal range of motion, but he’s okay with that.  
  
“Gimme a spin. Let me see how the new leg works,” he insists, twirling his hand until Jensen capitulates and turns in an unsteady circle. “Awesome.”  
  
Jensen faces Jared again and sees the bright smile he fell for stretching across Jared’s mouth. He can’t help crowding in close to kiss Jared once more, automatically surrendering control and moaning as Jared sucks on his bottom lip.  
  
After, Jared kneels down and rolls up Jensen’s pant leg.  
  
“Jared, don’t,” Jensen protests, but Jared shushes him.  
  
He doesn’t want Jared to see his leg like this. It’s pale and oddly textured from having the cast on for so long, but Jared doesn’t seem to care. He brushes his lips over the same spot below Jensen’s knee that he always kissed on the cast, hands cradling Jensen’s leg gently.  
  
Jensen laughs. “You really are weird.”  
  
Jared shrugs, not denying it. He climbs back to his feet and wraps Jensen up in a tight hug. Jensen burrows close, nose tucked into the curve of Jared’s neck. Of course, they’re interrupted by Hunter, who rubs against their legs, meowing his head off and demanding his dinner. Jensen picks him up for a quick scratch, smiling at the sudden switch from angry meowing to contented purring.  
  
“How about pizza tonight?” he asks, setting Hunter down and heading for the kitchen. Jared catches up to him and frames Jensen’s hips with his large hands, kissing the back of his neck.  
  
“Sounds perfect.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Better than Ezra


End file.
